It's Just South of Schnauzerville

Hello!

It's me, Winston J. Schmidt.

I've been keeping pretty busy with this new thing I wanna talk to you guys about. It's pretty exciting. Suzanne and Mr. Wolf went out of town a few weeks ago, and I got to go to this really awesome place and hang out for a couple of days. There were other dogs, and all kinds of smells, and you'll never guess what happened next.

They made me the Mayor of Chihuahua Town.

First, I tried out for the office assistant position, and I thought I did a pretty good job of it, because I didn't eat any of the office supplies, but they said that I was there to have social time with other dogs, not be an office assistant.

I make friends wherever I go, but I wasn't expecting to be this popular. The nice lady put me in with the huskies and shepherds, and I hung out with them for a bit, but then I thought, "Hey, you know what? Other dogs might like to get in on the Winston action, and I could use a break."

The fences at the most exciting place on Earth are kinda low (standard dog park height, and this is why we don't go to dog parks - ed.), so I hopped over them until I found a bunch of guys who were more my speed, and we hung out. When the nice lady came looking for me, she found me with a couple of mini schnauzers, a Pomeranian, a dog that looked kinda like my favorite fleece toy, and some chihuahuas. They ran around me and barked, which I didn't used to like, but then I figured it was O.K. because we were all having so much fun. It was the coolest.

The nice lady tried to put me back with the big dogs, but I kept jumping, so she finally gave up.

When Suzanne and Mr. Wolf came to get me, I jumped over another fence and ran to the door to greet them. I told them all about the other dogs, and how much fun I had there, and then I climbed into the back seat and fell asleep for two days, because, you know, a guy gets tired. Being the Mayor of Chihuahua Town is exhausting.

In conclusion, I really like that place, and I hope I get to go back there more, because they need a guy like me to keep things lively.

Sincerely,

Winston J. ‘Bug’ Schmidt

Warm

This is where I find him when I wake up on the couch at five in the morning.

The Evening News

"Molly? Molly?! Hey, MOLLY!"

"Winston, I'm busy sleep-barking, so..."

"You, uh, wanna hear a secret?"

"Do I have to wake up to hear it? Because this is the only time of the day that I'm this relaxed."

"Nah, I'll just tell you."

"You're my best friend, too."

No Cause for Alarm

Why am I late for work every morning? I blame the weather.

I was just getting to the point where I'd wake up when the sun came through my window, and then it got too cold for me to leave the curtains open at night. Damn you, cold weather!

"Well, O.K." I though. "I'll just open the curtains first thing in the morning, and stand at the window until I no longer feel like going back to bed for another nine minutes and thirty-two seconds." That worked for exactly two days, and then we finally got winter weather. With the cloud cover, I didn't get any sunlight when I opened my window. Damn you, cloudy weather!

"No problem," I thought. "I'll set two alarm clocks, one all the way across the room." Here's why that didn't work for more than a day. The dogs, they are adorable when they sleep. They sleep on the bed, one on each side of me, turning my comforter into a very narrow sleeping bag. I have to squeeze out of this pocket by inching my way up to the head of the bed and climbing over them. You'd think this would be enough of a push to keep me going once I get free, but you'd be underestimating the pull of that warm, coveted spot at the bottom of the pile. I learned that I can get up, turn off the far alarm, then turn right around and crawl up into the middle of the bed again. They will not even wake up. At least half the time, I "accidentally" press the off button instead of the snooze button.

I tried anyway, but all I was doing was getting good at berating myself as I drifted back to sleep. Then, daylight savings time kicked in. The sun didn't come up until 7:18 today. Damn you, daylight savings time (which I realize is not technically weather-related, but close enough for government work)!

"I'll put one of the lights on a timer! That way, I'll trick myself into thinking that it's later. I'll just set it down here on the bed while I answer the phone, then I'll figure out which light to plug it...ah, dammit."

It, uh, looked like a big Abba Zabba, so you can't blame a guy for wanting to be sure. Now you can sleep in, secure under the protection of Fort Winston, without any lights clicking on and scaring anybody who might be sleep-barking while dreaming about squirrels. As you do.

Damn you...ah, I can't be mad at you. Look at your sweet face.


So I'm just going to go ahead and blame the weather for all the sneaking to my desk through the cafeteria every morning in order to minimize contact with anyone who would care and/or fire me.

Damn you, weather!

Yoko! Oh, no!

"Instant karma's gonna get you! Gonna squirt you right in the FACE!"

"Uh, Molly? I'm kind of, um, mad at you, so..."

"You're mad at me? I'm SUPER loveable! Why are you mad?"

"Because you're a Yoko."

"I'm a WHAT?!?"

"You're like that lady who messed up the design of the Beetle or something."


"The three of us were like this awesome band. We even had a cool picture for our album cover. And then we had to break up, just like the Buggles, and it's all your fault, so you're a total Yoko."

"I am NOT a Yoko! I want to be one of the Beagles."

"I worked it all out. I'm like John, and Ernie's like Paul, and Hana's like that other guy who made that video with all of those animatronic squirrels, and you're a Yoko."

"Why can't I be Ringo, though?"

"Because you're different from us, and you broke up the band, and you make a lot of irritating noises, and you flash your lady-junk at the camera all the time."


O.K., dogs? Can I interject here? Molly, you did introduce a new dynamic into the pack, and now the boys can't play together anymore. That is kind of on you, sweetie.

"Because I am TOO MUCH FUN?"

Sure, pup. That must be what it is. And Winston, it's not like she's forcing you fellas to go after each other like it's goddamn Thunderdome, so it's kind of on you, too, guy. And, by the way, 'Yoko' is not a noun.

"Well, you're a Yoko."

"We're ALL Yokos! Yaaaaaaaay!"

I f&$king hate The Beatles.

* * *

Doc and I are still trying to decide whether or not it's worth trying to reintroduce the boys. They started fighting a few months ago, vicious fights where both dogs came away bloody. We think it has something to do with the energy that Molly brings to their playdates. She's a noisy player, and she riles up the other dogs around her with her growls.

Do we try to teach her to not be so provocative? Do we go back to getting them all together for walks, and see if we can get them to calm down? Do we accept that the three older dogs won't ever get back to where they were when that picture was taken? That last option is a little sad, because it's been a theme around here lately. "That was a beautiful time, but it's never going to be like that again. All I have left is the picture."


On the other hand, they don't seem to mind too much. They love each other. We still get different combinations of the dogs together, just not Winston and Ernie. It's working itself out.

Maybe she's not Yoko. Maybe she's more of a Linda.

Winston's Review: Nikon Field Glasses

Hello!

It's me, Winston J. Schmidt.

I've been keeping pretty busy with hanging around and looking handsome, and coming up with new and creative ways of arranging Fort Winston on Suzanne's bed. I haven't had much time to review Suzanne's stuff lately, but I promised to do more write-ups of my work, so here's something I worked on a while back.

Winston's Art: "Unmaking a Spectacle of Myself"

Materials: Nikon field glasses

My Process: So, Suzanne left us again for, like, three days (half an hour, just long enough to chat with the neighbors across the street - ed.) and she put her purse in the closet, so I had to be more creative with this one.

I couldn't find anything good in the kitchen, and she'd emptied the trash in all of the bathrooms. I though about eating a remote control, but I got bored after gnawing on the battery.


I was pretty bummed that I couldn't find any more eyeglasses, because that's still my favorite medium. I found the next best thing up in the library, though. These binoculars came in a big, soft case, and they're made of glass and plastic, so they're practically giant eyeglasses. So, uh, you can't blame a guy for making an honest mistake, right?

I didn't get much of a chance to do anything creative with them, because Suzanne came home too soon. I only got as far as chewing them into tiny pieces on my bed. I think I did a good job considering the tight deadline, though.

Conclusion: The case wasn't real leather, which was disappointing. The field glasses were much more complex than eyeglasses, so chewing them was about a hundred times more satisfying. Overall, this was a fun project.

Suzanne doesn't leave us alone in the house anymore, not even when she's out in the garage working out, so it might be a little while before I get to do another large-scale review. Don't worry, though. She'll drop her guard before too long, and I'll get back to work.


Anyway, thanks for reading along.

Sincerely,

Winston J. ‘Bug’ Schmidt

From the Peanut Gallery

O.K., so if you were wondering whether or not Suzanne was going to keep up with posting every day? Uh, looks like no.

Love, Winston

Winston? Guy, this post means I posted today. I'm still in it.

You're welcome.

New Choices for a New Life

Saved it!

Today's big choice was whether to get up and meet my running team, or crawl back into bed after slapping at the alarm half a dozen times. I did a little more than six miles before 9:30 a.m. But it was close - really close - to going the other way. This is what I was looking at when I made that decision.

Entangling

Molly: +1
Interlacements Oregon Worsted: -650

I'm a couple of hours into straightening the mess out.

I've had this ball of yarn for a few years, trying to decide whether I want it to become the Back-to-School U-Neck Vest or the variegated color in a retry of a long-gone Gloria. Maybe she was trying to tell me to get on with it, to stop pulling this extra-large yarn cake out of the bin and looking at it, only to put it back a couple of months later. Maybe she was trying to get me to stop dithering. Or maybe she was just bored.

Whatever the reason, I walked upstairs and found her stretched out on the library floor, a beautiful mound of yarn between her dainty paws. She was chewing on it quietly, relaxed and happy in a beam of sunlight.

"O.K., sugar, time to do something else. Good puppy! If it'd been Winston, there'd be cut pieces mixed in here. You are such a gentle girl!" The happy-leader voice distracted her from her favorite new chew toy, allowing me to pull it away from her and pat her on the head. She trotted downstairs and curled up next to Winston by the front window. I don't think she even missed it, another way that she differs from Winston. He'd have tried to get to that yarn every time I turned my back.

I'm working on winding it up. I still don't know which project I want it to be, but spending so much time looking at it has made me determined to use it sooner rather than later. But at least I know my sweet puppy won't completely destroy my knitting before I realize that she has it...

Molly! >sigh<

Winston's Review: Suzanne's Purse

Hello!

It's me, Winston J. Schmidt.

Suzanne's been going through a weird time lately, so I've tried really hard not to review any more of her yarn. Also, she started keeping it behind a closed door, so I can't get to it, but, even if she hadn't, I wouldn't eat her yarn right now.

But you TOTALLY should, because guess what? It all tastes GREAT!

Molly? That's not cool, because eating yarn makes Suzanne sad, and...

She didn't look sad when I tested the mouthfeel of that 600-yard ball of Interlacements superwash, or when I helped her out with a stress test of that ball of Pure Merino. She said it wasn't my fault, and she patted me on the head and said I was a GOOD DOG when I let her take it away without trying to grab it and run. Maybe it makes her sad when YOU do it, but when I do it she thinks it's adorable, because I'm a loveable scamp! Yaaaay!


O.K., um, anyway, some of us have been trying really hard not to do yarn reviews. I moved on to other media, because a guy likes to express himself through his art. I hope you like it.

Winston's Art: Suzanne's Purse

Materials: Corduroy, hard plastics, paper, leather, cloth, wood, nylon, foil, ink

My Process: I was trying to express my longing for Suzanne's steady presence in my life. Everything's changing, and a guy gets nervous, you know? Accountant Boy just stopped coming home one day, and I don't get why, because I only took a dumper in his shoes one time, and that was a long time ago. How do I know Suzanne's not going to leave me, too?

So, she went out for like, thirty-seven hours (three hours, down the street to a disaster preparedness meeting - ed.), and I got lonely and scared. My first thought after undoing the latches on my kennel with my tongue was, "If she were here, I'd happily lick her nose so that she knows how much I love her. What smells the most like Suzanne's face?"


I came up with eyeglasses, and I know she keeps them in her purse, because I've tried to eat them before. They were in a delicious rawhide case, which I gnawed to pieces, and the frame was hard and smooth, like a thin Nylabone. I only got a tooth mark on them last time I tried, but I was really able to go to town on them during this session. I popped out the lenses, then I mangled the ear pieces so that they couldn't be fixed again. The case wasn't tasty rawhide, because she's picked a cloth one when she had the glasses fixed the first time, but that didn't stop me from enjoying it. It still tasted like the inside of her purse, which tastes like Starbucks pastries and sunshine. I was pretty proud of this work, so I left it in the middle of the carpet in the front room.

I was still unsatisfied with the scale of the piece, so I went looking for something else to add. She also had a pair of Wayfarers in there, and - lucky me - they were in one of those rawhide cases, so I ate the ear pieces off of them, then I resculpted the case. With my mouth. I didn't want my display to be monotonous, so I did this part in a different room, so that the two works didn't share a sight line. I placed everything gently on my downstairs bed, which was a commentary on royalty and privilege, because it was reminiscent of crown jewels on a velvet pillow.

It had been, like, forty-six hours (Three hours. Only three hours. - ed.), and Suzanne still hadn't come back, so I continued working. By this time, though, I was pretty tired, so I dragged her finger exerciser up onto the purple couch and chewed the palm pad off of it. I also got down a lot of the blue plastic, even though it looks kinda good here. (I incorporated that into subsequent earthworks projects for weeks afterward. I call that installation Le Poo Bleu.) I left the rest of the hand exerciser on one of the couch pillows, as a commentary on the push and pull between activity and inertia.

By now, I was getting really nervous, because she'd been gone for eighty-three hours (Winston! Dammit! It was only THREE HOURS. Wasn't the fact that the sun didn't rise and set on you while I was gone kind of a tip-off? - ed.), so I stopped thinking critically about what I was chewing. I ate her earphones, but they were hard to bite through and kinda stringy, so I got them stuck between my teeth. I moved on to a reuseable orange grocery bag, just because I thought it'd have some good flavors in it and it would have contrasted nicely with all the blue stuff I'd spread around, but it was hard to tear up. I only got the attached carrying pouch free. I pulled apart a couple of pieces of paper, but that was even less satisfying.



Finally, all I had left was the collection of stick-things. I splintered the wooden one into six pieces, because it smelled like Suzanne's hands, so I really wanted to take it all in. The splinters poked my face, though, so I figured I'd try the other stick-things to see if they were better. I'm happy with how that went, because I was able to use the blue stick-thing to garnish the carpet around the eyeglasses. The carpet was a pretty shade of azure when I was done, like a summer sky.

There wasn't much else to use after that. I was about to chew what looked like the very best plastic bit in her purse when she walked in the door. She told me how much it meant to her when she picked it up and wiped the spit off of it. "Winston? This is my car key. Do you know how much I'd have to pay to replace this if you chewed it up? Of course you don't, because you're a dog, but let me tell you, big guy. Several hundred dollars. What is wrong with you?" And then I felt bad, because I think what she meant was "What is wrong with you? This bit would have tied the whole thing together, and I can't believe you didn't use it."

She picked it all up, probably so that Molly wouldn't mess with it. I think she really liked it, because she spread it all out on the counter and started crying.

Conclusion: I’m happy with how this project came together. I’ve worked with some of this media before, but I haven’t had this much freedom to experiment with it. I still like working in yarn, but it seems kinda done now that Molly’s into it. I like to be cutting edge. I think Suzanne’s trying to keep my work relevant and fresh by holding it back from the public. She started putting her purse in the hall closet so that I wouldn’t get burned out in my new media. Sometimes she slips up, and leaves it on the counter though, so there’s still a chance that I’ll have an even bigger installation in 2012. Also, I learned that there’s other stuff in the house that gets my creative juices flowing, so look forward to my writeups of that in the next few weeks.


Anyway, thanks for reading along.

Sincerely,

Winston J. ‘Bug’ Schmidt

Winston's Review: Horstia Maulbeerseide-Schurwolle

Hello!

It’s me, Winston J. Schmidt.

I finally got a chance to review another yarn, because Suzanne hasn't learned that I can reach as high as the top of the pub table, even though I dragged her 40-year-old Raggedy Ann down from there and, well, things happened. Look for my review of Raggedy Ann yarn hair in the future.

Squirted! Squirted right in the FACE! I like it when it's not me!

Molly? I didn't get squirted in the face, because I think Suzanne kinda wanted me to do that so that she wouldn't have to make tough decisions about her dirty, old doll. Also, you have to throw a whole bucket of water on me to get me to stop doing stuff, which makes the squirt bottle kinda useless. And she didn't catch me with the yarn, so there's no proving that it wasn't you, even though you're not tall enough to reach up on your hind legs like a velociraptor and grab stuff off the counter, and you don't like yarn. So you didn't get squirted in the face, thanks to me making it ambiguous. You're welcome.

Anyway, I got a chance to review this ball of yarn, so here's my assessment.

Yarn: Horstia Maulbeerseide-Schurwolle

Yardage/Weight: 50 grams per 100 meters

Fiber Content: 50% Silk / 50% Wool

Color: Like, um, pasta? You guys, it really did look like spaghetti, and if a guy can't tell the difference, then you can't hold it against him for trying to eat it, right?

Texture: Single-ply, and sort of shiny and squeaky, and I hate to keep saying it but it really did look just like cooked pasta when it was sitting on the floor, where it just happened to fall after I gently brushed it off of the tall bar table with my face. I watched Suzanne try to untangle and re-roll the ball, and it looked kinda like it was already getting fuzzy and felted, and I don't like that stuff getting stuck in my jowls.

Flavor: Disappointing, because it didn't taste buttery or salty. After my last review, where the yarn had notes of barnyard and grass, this one was kind of a let-down.

Mouth Feel: Silky and slippery, and a little past al dente.

Review: Suzanne really likes this yarn, I guess. She made a sweater out of some of it that didn't look like pasta a few years ago, but then she accidentally felted it, which I could have told her would happen, since I did it just by chewing on it. A few years ago, when she heard it was discontinued, she bought, like, fifteen balls of it in this mustard color, even though she thinks it's going to make her look like she has jaundice.

To me, it's just O.K. It doesn't break easily in my mouth, and it doesn't taste like much of anything. Once I tangled up the ball a little bit, I lost interest in it. If she does make something out of it pretty soon, I probably would try to eat another ball, but it wouldn't be as good as that sheepy stuff.

In conclusion, Suzanne thinks it's great, but I wish she'd let me review more angora.

Sincerely,

Winston J. ‘Bug’ Schmidt

Three Wishes

I have three wishes you guys! The wishy thing was supposed to be yesterday, so I hope I'm not too late!

First, I wish that every day could be Burrito Monday, because that's when we get tortilla chips. I LOVE tortilla chips.

Second, I wish that I had a room full of red velvet throw pillows. I love those things!

Third, I wish everyone had it as good as I do, because you guys? I have it pretty good. I get chippy snacks, and nobody yells at me when I haul the red throw velvet throw pillows around the house, and Suzanne tells me I'm a BEAUTIFUL PUPPY, like, all the time! Yay!

Anyway, those are my wishes. Thanks!

Love,

Molly

p.s. I look all wrinkled because I'm wishing REALLY HARD.

Pieces of What

Accountant Boy with Doc's dogs - November 11, 2011 - Truckee

The Morning News

"Hey, Winston! HEY WINSTON! Are you awake?"

"Not really, no..."

"Wanna hear a SECRET? A super-SPECIAL SECRET?"

"I'm kinda, you know, sleeping right now, and there's only a few minutes where we get to be on the bed before Suzanne and Accountant Boy go to work, so..."

"But it's the BEST secret EVER! Pleeeeaase? Please ask me what the secret is! C'mon!"

"O.K., but then can I go back to sleep?'Cause sometimes a guy likes to nap in the morning, and you're kind of loud, and..."


"I am NOT loud! I'm joyful! Everyone loves my exuberance. So can I tell you the greatest secret EVER?!?"

"Uh, sure?"

"...you're my best friend..."

Sunday Morning Talk Shows

Molly: ...sigh...

Winston: ...

Molly: SIGH!

Winston: Uh, Molly? I'm kinda, you know, trying to sleep, and...

Molly: I know, and it's REALLY hard, huh? How can any of us sleep when we're worrying about my luscious paella?

Winston: Your what? 'Cause I was only thinking about how much I like sleeping, but...

Molly: That's what I'm SAYING, though. It's really hard to sleep when you have a LUXURIANT PATINA!

Winston: It's really hard to sleep when you're sighing on my face. I don't have a levitating pancetta or whatever.

Accountant Boy: Luxating patella, guys. It's called a luxating patella. But you seem fine, Molly, since you spent last night kicking me in the back.

Molly: Yay for Molly! Physical therapy resistance training! YAAAAAYYY!

* * *

Meanwhile, my hand surgeon told me that my finger isn't straightening out as well as it did last year, and recommended that I keep it splinted for three weeks. It's not going to help it hurt less, or make it less stiff, but it might make it less gnarled, so I'm going to give it a shot. There goes my tensioning finger, so no knitting. If it works, at least it'll look more like the other one. I'll take my victories where I can get them.

My Best Friend Winston by Molly

Hey, you guys! Hi! It's me, Molly! I wanted to tell you a story about my best friend Winston. It's called "My Best Friend Winston". Here it is!


My best friend Winston likes the sunshine, and so do I. Sometimes, we try to soak up the rays together. Sometimes we end up trying to soak up the EXACT SAME RAYS! And that means I end up sitting on him, and that makes him REALLY HAPPY because I'M happy, and he still gets to be warm because I'm warm. It's a win for EVERYONE! Plus, he's just the right height for sitting on, and if it bugged him he'd get up, right?

He looks sad, but you guys? That's totally how he looks all the time. I always look like a lovable scamp, and he always looks sad, but the difference is that I AM a lovable scamp, and that's just his face.


Anyway, my best friend Winston and I like to lie in the sun together, and sometimes we do it outside and I try to protect his soft, pink belly from getting sunburned, because I am a GOOD FRIEND.


And sometimes we sit on the sofa together and I protect him while he watches television. Nobody's going to throw him into traffic on MY watch.


See, I'm his best friend, too. It's a two-way street. A two-way street where nobody gets thrown out into TRAFFIC, even when they horf on the freshly cleaned carpet. He's such a good friend that he even tries to help me clean up when that happens. We look out for each other. So, he doesn't sit on me because it might hurt me. He sits on Accountant Boy instead.


Most of the time it's not even about sitting on him or kicking him out of his favorite spots. I just like being near him, and he's not very good at that yet. Dr. Nice Lady at the weird place with all the TASTY cookies says that he's a 'different' kind of dog, so he still has to learn to like curling up with other dogs. I'm teaching him to wag his tail and wriggle, so I KNOW he can learn the other stuff. And I'm learning to not sit on him all the time, too! Sometimes I just squeeze in next to him.


I love my best friend Winston. The end.

* * *

One sleeve down on Papeline, halfway through the next. This yarn is so smooth and lovely, and almost all of the rowing evened out when I washed it. The odd thing about it is that there is a very slight tonal variegation to it, which wasn't obvious in the skein. I actually like it even more since it's not completely solid. I cannot wait to finish this one so that I can wear it.

Ollymay On Irefay

Hi, everyone! HI! It’s me, Molly!

I want to talk to you today about this NEAT thing that some of my internet friends call ‘fire time’. They call it ‘fyur tyme’, but I looked it up when I was pretending to randomly step on Suzanne’s keyboard, and I’m pretty sure I spelled it right, so HA! Wait! Don’t tell her I can do that! If she thinks I’m too smart for my own good, she might get mad at me! I don’t want to end up back in TRAFFIC in the RAIN!

Molly? Quit worrying about being thrown into rainy traffic. What kind of monster would do something like thaaa….oh. Let me rephrase. Molly, quit worrying about Accountant Boy and I throwing you into rainy traffic.


ANYWAY, fire time is when you throw waxed paper into a drafty hole in the wall and set it on fire. The end. I don’t see the point of it, because it doesn’t make anything warmer and we don’t cook anything on it, and Winston’s afraid of it even though there’s glass between us and the fire.

There’s good stuff about fire time, though. Suzanne likes it, and she sits on the floor next to the drafty hole with the burning waxed paper, which means I get more of the couch. YES! And then, when the waxed paper stops blazing, Suzanne hits it with an iron rod and makes it burn some more so that it won’t set the house on fire while we’re asleep, which doesn’t make much sense because it’s behind glass doors the whole time and it’s not even warm on the hearth bricks. But that’s my favorite part of fire time, because then I get off the couch and sit beside her, and she opens the glass doors and we let our faces get warm together.

That’s my take on fire time! YAY! Love, Molly!

p.s. - Ixnay on the affictray alktay. See? I'm really smart, you guys! I'm learning LATIN!



* * *

I missed my knitting deadline on Pas de Valse, with only fifty-nine sleeve rounds left to go. I’m shooting for Friday now, because to Hell with the arbitrary “it’ll be this many months since I started it/since I said it’d be done/this many months since Buddy…” crap. I’d like to wear it on Friday, and I’d like to move on to a more colorful, interesting project. We’ll see how it goes.

I’ve also blown the NaBloPoMo goal for this month, and I’m not going to backdate posts to try to make up for it. I never really got behind the theme, at any rate. If I had to spend the month talking about our cultural Zeitgeist – had to spend the month talking about it – my entries would have turned into nothing more than hate-filled essays about ‘Glee’ and celebrities on Twitter and Justin Bieber, and you can find that stuff anywhere else on the web. Maybe I’ll want to talk about those things, but now I won’t have to talk about them. Ah, sweet freedom that comes with walking away from a commitment! It tastes like licorice.

Squash-cicle

Hey, you guys! Hi! It's me, Molly!

You know what I got, because it's Thanksgiving and I've been good? Frozen pumpkin Kong! If I'm good and stay on my bed, I get to have the WHOLE THING, and I can make SLURPY SOUNDS with it! It's DELICIOUS! THANKS, SANTA!

Molly, sugar? Thanksgiving isn't really when...

Hoppity-hop-hop! Hoppity-hop-hop! Santa's on his waaaaay!

Oh, what the Hell. Happy Thanksgiving, baby.

Winston's Idea of a Good Time

I make my own fun.

Sincerely,

Winston J. 'Bug' Schmidt

Squishface

You guys? You know what? My new best friend Molly is exhausting.

Sometimes a guy just wants to come downstairs and hang out on the couch without getting his ankles bitten. Sometimes he wants to stare out into the rain in quiet rebellion, refusing to walk out and get his feet wet, without another dog high-stepping out into the downpour and cavorting like a field spaniel, making him look like a ninny. Sometimes maybe he doesn't want to have another dog jumping on his neck and growling like a honey badger. Sometimes.

Then again, sometimes he does, and that's cool, too, because he loves his new best friend, and he gets a lot of sympathy-treats and special time on the couch because he gets to act put-upon. It's good.

But, I tell you, that guy's going to end up exhausted.

Sincerely,

Winston J. 'Bug' Schmidt